Day twenty-six – The countdown continues, five days left.
For my personal Poem A Day Challenge today, I have the prompt listed as… a cartoon bandit.
My favorite was Pink Panther – but I may go Yosemite Sam here. Or, if it becomes my political piece, Boris & Natasha (natch!)
Robert Lee Brewer’s AprPAD challenge prompt is write a regret poem. Most people regret some action they’ve taken over the years, whether it’s saying the wrong thing, making the wrong choice, or putting off something for a tomorrow that never comes. Write about your own regrets, or the regrets of others (this is a great opportunity to write a persona poem)..
NaPoWriMo’s featured participant is fresh poetry. Featured poets for today is poet Melissa Range being interviewed by the poet Stephen Burt about her book, Scriptorium, sonnets, and incorporating colloquialisms and slang into poetry.
NaPoWriMo‘s countdown prompt! “Have you ever heard someone wonder what future archaeologists, whether human or from alien civilization, will make of us? Today, I’d like to challenge you to answer that question in poetic form, exploring a particular object or place from the point of view of some far-off, future scientist? The object or site of study could be anything from a “World’s Best Grandpa” coffee mug to a Pizza Hut, from a Pokemon poster to a cellphone.”
Poets&Writers 30 Day Challenge prompt is “Choose a word or phrase you find yourself saying often (e.g. like, totally, hate, really, kind of) and write a poem using it as much as possible, turning it over and over, repositioning it, extending it, playing with its uses and the parts of speech into which it can be shaped.”
Poem In Your Pocket
(Inter)National Poetry Month & NaPoWriMo/GloPoWriMo have very few special days/event set aside. One of the few is Poem in Your Pocket Day which. this year, is tomorrow Apr 27th. Started in New York City in 2003. Just as NaPoWriMo is now GloPoWriMo, National Poetry Month and Poem In Your Pocket Day are now international events (here’s Canada’s)
How are some people celebrating?
In Charlottesville VA, Library volunteers hand out scrooled poems on the street.
Educators are planning Poem-In-your-Pocket activities for their classrooms.
Third graders in Pennsylvania sew simple pockets to pin on their clothes – that are then stuffed with poems they themselves have written
The Write Shop has some printables.
It’s easy to carry a poem, share a poem, or start your own Poem in Your Pocket Day event. Here are some ideas:
- Print out one of my poetry memes & carry it tomorrow.
- Write out your favorite poem and keep it in your pocket so that you can share it with others.
- Tweet a poem using the hashtag #pocketpoem.
- Start a “poems for pockets” giveaway in your school or workplace.
- Post pocket-sized verses in public places
- Memorize a poem
- Start a street team to pass out poems in your community
- Distribute bookmarks with your favorite lines of poetry
- Add a poem to your email footer
- Post lines from your favorite poem on your Facebook, Instagram, Twitter, or Tumblr
- Send a poem to a friend OR Post a poem of yours here in my comments!
- Participate in local poetry readings and events to commemorate the day.
- What about writing your own bit of poetry and sharing it with others?
- If you have children, why not write out a small poem and put it in their lunch box as a surprise treat?
- Keep a short poem in your pocket. Look at it often and memorize it.
- Print some favorite poems and pass them out in your classroom or homeschool group. Pinterest has many Poem In Your Pocket templates available.
- Post a poem on your blog or social networking page.
- Add a poem to your email footer.
- Text a poem to friends.
- Distribute bookmarks with lines from favorite poems. Younger kids will love the ones on this free printable!
- record a video of yourself reading a poem, then uploading your video to a service like Instagram, Facebook, or YouTube. Anyone who hen carries a cell phone will be “carrying” your poem in their pocket (purse, hand).
- writing a poem or poems and then publishing it
- adding your own poem to National Writing Project Facebook page .
Just a sidenote:
Some of you may have thought Poem In Your Pocket Day was April 24th. No, it varies dependiing on the year. Some websites, bless their well-meaning heart, have it inaccurately listed as occuring on the same day but it actually varies. I am not sure who actually affixes the date; most likely someonw at The Academy for American Poets, since they now take the lead in this event.
I was going to post a short poem here – one that naPoWriMo’s prompt reminded me of – for “future acheologists” is what prompted it … but I find that it is yet another poem that has gone missing. I know I have a hard copy of it – so not entirely lost. just … not found yet.
But to go with the “In Your Pocket” theme today, here is …
Living In Your Pocket
I am living in your pocket
because life has shrunk to work
and almost-work and your absence.
I am stealing daylight from night hours
deceiving colors as they bleed out,
and I ran out of bartering tomorrow’s joy;
my hands were always empty after.
As are my arms, my bed, my smile.
These days have eaten my reserve
like termites living in floor boards.
I look in a mirror and turn around
wondering why I cannot see the boggart
I feel … there; his tenacious fingers
curled determinedly onto my clavicle,
his clammy toes curling into the small
of my back like a cold winters rain.
There was a time I knew the counter spell,
those joyful movements that kept my body limber
and my smile writing glyphs in mountains.
There was a time I would’ve
had glyphs written on my skin;
protective pictographs sung
in angels alphic prayers,
hieroglyphics snug guards
around my heart.
I gathered flowers alongside bitter herbs;
I could alchemy
pain into pleasure. I was capable –
Lady Godiva hair and Morgana’s mind.
I rode armies into dust,
them wearing my sigel
And crying from release.
Now I am a mere token
carried like an inanimate;
I am Met. Deju de in the lonely dark.
You wouldn’t even remember me
if I didn’t prick your thigh
And only then does your hand briefly linger
to calm poisoned fevers, cannibalistic cravings.
My hand are now too small to be effective
and my metal is leached,
replaced with plastic that cracks; time
was too affective.
My moon races forward,
bestowing all those years I refused.
I mean nothing now –
an ancient belief you borrowed
but you didn’t believe.
You shrunk me down and made me of dried mud;
these glyphs are not mine
and you stuffed me away into your pocket
and never drew me out.
I want to sit in a tree again,
I want to dance skyclad under a February sky moon.
Oh, draw me out! Oh, draw me out.